


The signals you send

by BlushLouise



Series: Signals [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cross-species Relationship, Decepticon-induced natural disasters, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Holoform Sex (Transformers), Holoforms (Transformers), Natural Disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlushLouise/pseuds/BlushLouise
Summary: Mara Heath had never expected that her work hunting for alien signals would actually one day bring genuine, bona-fide aliens.Well. They say they're aliens. They look awfully human at first glance.She'd also never expected to watch some of them blow up the world.Thank goodness one of them stays with her.
Relationships: Bluestreak (Transformers)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Signals [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046257
Comments: 76
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zero_remains](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zero_remains/gifts).



> For my dear amica, who fell in love with my fic Signals in an empty sky and wanted the prequel. I hope this is everything you wanted <3

Mara isn’t there when first contact is made – of all the days to be sick – and frankly, she doubts that it was all that much to make a fuss about. Granted, it’s first contact with a supposedly alien race. But the alien contacted them via regular radio equipment, asked for assistance in perfect English, and agreed to a meeting just a few minutes away from base. What kind of alien would do that?

Still, she sees how much of a tizzy Bethany and the other girls are in after it happens, and how Mr. Witwicky is close to bursting a seam – or five, since Mr. Witwicky favors suits that make promises his corpulent form really can’t keep. So she makes very sure that she’s there for the first actual meeting. Call it curiosity. She certainly has enough of it.

She has, technically, been briefed for this. Her entire job the last five years has been focused on just such a situation. Sure, it’s been theoretical up to this point. But she figures she’s prepared. Ready.

God, is she wrong.

She leans in, whispers in Bethany’s ear. “I thought they were supposed to be aliens.”

“They are,” Bethany whispers back, a hint of a giggle in her tone. “You should have heard them when they first called us, before they figured out they needed to speak English. A god-awful screeching over the radio, it was, the likes of which I’ve never heard in my life.”

Mara looks at the three forms coming closer. “They don’t look like aliens.” If anything, she’d be hard put to think they were anything other than normal human men. They wouldn’t have turned heads anywhere. There really was nothing remarkable about them.

“Well, they are.” Bethany rolls her eyes. “Maybe aliens actually look like us, huh? Now shush, I can’t hear them!”

Mara refrains from pointing out that the reason Bethany can’t hear them is because no one’s said anything yet. Instead she watches as the three men walk straight up to Mr. Witwicky, bold as you please. Mr. Witwicky, to his credit, doesn’t move an inch.

“Are you Clarence Witwicky?” the middle one says, in perfect, polished English. He talks like the weather man on TV.

Mr. Witwicky stands impossibly straight. “That I am, sir. And in the name of Earth and the United States government, I’m authorized to officially welcome you to Earth.”

Mara, by the grace of long training and experience with this man in charge, manages not to smile at the phrase. It may be more pompous than they have grounds for – they may be affiliated with the right authorities, but they’re still a minor military branch. It’s probably only because of Mr. Witwicky’s talent for getting his way that this mission hasn’t been taken over by someone higher up.

“Thank you.” The stranger doesn’t seem to know quite what to make of Mr. Witwicky. “I am Prowl. These are my associates, Bluestreak and Blaster. I was told we would be permitted use of your radio equipment?”

“Of course, of course!” Mr. Witwicky nods firmly. “All in the name of interspecies relations, I’m sure! Our equipment is top of the line, the best in the US if not the world.” He gestures to Mara and Bethany. “The girls will show your associates the way, while we look over those maps you mentioned. Miss Newcombe, and Miss Heath.”

Mara inclines her head at the closest one. “If you would follow me, sir.”

“Sure. Miss Heath, was it?” He offers her a smile, more kind and less sleazy than she’d expected. “I’m Bluestreak.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir. Welcome to Earth.” She ignores Bethany’s giggles as she leads the other alien man back to the base. It’s not surprising that she flirts – Bethany’s always on the lookout for The One, the man who’ll sweep her off her feet and take her away from all this – but it’s misplaced, neither the time nor the place or frankly the right target for it. This is work, and honestly these aliens are less exciting than she’d expected. It’s like having the British soldiers visiting, actually, aside from the accents. Bethany would probably have done better with the soldiers, really.

“Oh, don’t call me sir,” the alien replies. “Just Bluestreak’s fine. I didn’t have the time to look up your ranking system properly, but I suspect we’re about equal. You’re a radio operator, aren’t you?”

“That’s correct.” Mara nods at the guard as they walk back into the base proper. “I’m taking you to the radio room now.”

She studies the man – the alien – as they walk. He looks nondescript enough, brown hair just long enough to be unruly, build slim but strong. Like any soldier she’s seen on base, really.

Strange.

She waits until they’re inside the building before asking. “Forgive me, but… Are you an actual alien?”

Bluestreak grins. “Don’t look it, huh? That’s good. We’re trying to blend in. This isn’t my true form.” He looks down at himself. “This is a holomatter avatar. We employ them when we interact with alien races, especially when they’ve had little contact with other civilizations.”

“A what?” Mara stares at him. This isn’t his real body?

“Right.” Bluestreak winces. “Forget I said that. You don’t have that tech yet. Let’s leave it at this being an alternate form we can use when we don’t want to scare the natives.”

“Right.” That’s interesting. It might, of course, also be a bunch of malarkey. And in any rate, it is above her paygrade. She’ll either learn the truth eventually, or she won’t. For now, she’ll do her job.

And maybe try to sniff out some more facts about Bluestreak and his associates while she’s at it.

She pushes open the door to the main radio room and beckons him inside. “Here we are.”

“Nice.” Bluestreak whistles. “This must be cutting-edge.”

“Oh, it is.” Mara leads him to the main unit. “But if you already have tech that’s ahead of ours, I don’t understand why you need this.”

Bluestreak grins. “No fooling you, is there? You’re right, our system’s more advanced than yours.” He sits down, starts pressing buttons. “But the signals we’ve been trying to pick up are too messy and basic for our systems to pick up properly. Even after landing, there’s some kind of signal scrambler running that blocks our sensors from reading it. So, we asked for help.”

“Really.” Mara cocks a skeptical eyebrow at him. “So what you’re saying is that you need our equipment not because it’s so good, but because it’s so bad?”

“I’m sorry.” Bluestreak doesn’t look very sorry. In fact, he’s still smiling. Maybe he’s been told that that’s what humans do. “Don’t be offended. This really is very nice. And I can already tell we’ll be able to pick up the signal a lot faster with this.”

“Is that so?” Mara sits down by the next unit over. “In that case, it’ll go even faster if I help you.”

It’s not quite that simple, of course. Bluestreak doesn’t volunteer information easily. Mara finally finds the signal he’s supposedly chasing by copying the settings on his receiver system and listening until she finds something odd.

And odd it is.

“It’s like there’s a disturbance blocking it,” she muses. “Like there’s a… film in the way or something.”

“That’s the scrambler.” Bluestreak sighs and puts his headphones down. “I can’t make heads or tails of it. Hopefully Blaster has more luck, he’s better than me at this.” He stretches with a groan. “Primus, I’m sore.”

Well, no wonder. They’ve been sitting here listening intently for over three hours.

Mara takes her headset off before standing and turning to Bluestreak. “Tell me, Bluestreak, do false humanoid alien figures have to eat? Because I am starved and I cannot work anymore before I get some dinner in me.”

“Food. Right.” He stands up as well, offers her his arm like a proper gentleman. Wherever they learned about Earth customs, he’s learned well. Or he could just be human. She hasn’t decided what to believe yet. “Well, I don’t eat. But I wouldn’t say no to a break.” He smiles again, like he comes easily to him.

Hmm. If he doesn’t eat, maybe he actually is an alien. The signal they’ve been chasing certainly sounds alien enough.

Regardless, she needs food. And this is a chance at further research.

She takes Bluestreak’s arm. It feels real enough, warm and solid under her hand. “Alright then. Let me show you to our mess hall.”

Bluestreak is unfailingly polite and unendingly curious. He has questions about everything he sees, from the coffee she pours into one of the white standard mugs the US military thought to supply them with to the lines on the floor. Mara answers the best she can, filing some of the stranger questions away for later consideration. Like when he asks about the meaning of her uniform and the insignia on it. Or what they actually spend all day listening for. And if they cooperate with other countries.

Alien. Human. Foreign spy. She doesn’t know what to make of him.

Bethany clearly knows what to do with her man, though, if her flirty expression is anything to judge by. Flattering eyelashes, small titters with her hand delicately covering her mouth, and if Mara’s not mistaken, she’s found time somewhere to touch up her makeup. And the alien doesn’t seem oblivious to her efforts, either.

Mara would roll her eyes if it didn’t give away that she’s watching.

“Do you all live here?” Bluestreak asks, pulling her attention back to him.

“Live here?” She snorts. “God forbid. No, the soldiers and guards stay in the barracks. The rest of us have homes to go home to.”

“Oh.” He smiles again. She’s not sure he ever stopped. “And when do you usually go to said home?”

“Sometime after dinner,” she replies vaguely. “When I’m done working.”

He looks down at her now empty plate before standing up and offering her his arm again. “Then why don’t we work a little more, and then I’ll take you home?”

She stares at him. “You have a car?”

Bluestreak laughs as if she’s said something exceptionally funny.

It’s another two hours before she’s ready to call it a day. The building has gradually grown quiet around them, as everyone else left. In the end, they’re the only ones still working.

Mara should perhaps be worried about being there alone with a man at such late hours. She’s not.

“I’m done,” she announces, standing up and hanging up her headset in one motion. “There’s nothing more we can puzzle out today.”

“Probably not,” Bluestreak agrees. He looks less tired than her, but he might also have otherworldly stamina. He’s certainly got decent work ethics. “Are you ready to go home?”

“Beyond ready.” She snags her purse and takes his arm when he offers it. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I’m happy to.” He smiles again, drat him. It’s growing on her. “How do you usually get home?”

“I walk, on clear nights.” Sometimes, at least. When she’s got sensible shoes on. “Most times I take the bus, and then walk the rest of the way.”

Bluestreak nods. “I’ve seen the buses. It’s a clever way to travel. We have something similar back home, though it’s shuttles there. Most people there drive themselves, though.” He chuckles again, like there’s a joke she doesn’t get.

Bluestreak leads her to one of the back lots. Most of the staff don’t drive their own cars, though there are a few exceptions – Mr. Witwicky the most obvious one. Mara is used to seeing only a handful of cars around.

She’s definitely not used to seeing this one.

Bluestreak leads her to a glossy, very expensive-looking grey car. Way beyond her paygrade, probably even beyond Mr. Witwicky’s. It practically reeks of money.

Bluestreak proves himself the gentleman yet again, opening the door for her. “Miss Heath.”

“Thank you.” Goodness, these seats are comfortable. The car also seems to start much easier than she’s used to, almost as soon as Bluestreak’s settled in the driver’s seat.

“If you’re an alien,” she asks, more curious than she’d like to admit, “how did you get your hands on such an expensive car?”

He laughs again. “Call it a perk.”

He’s a good driver. No jerking around corners, no rapid acceleration, and yet they’re going faster than she realizes at first.

“This is a very nice car,” she comments. She’s not much of a car enthusiast, but she likes to think she at least recognizes quality when she sees it. “What kind is it?”

“Deusenberg model J.” Bluestreak’s smile widens to a grin. “I liked the lines of it.”

“I can see why.” She touches the interior carefully. “It’s very nice.”

Very nice. Honestly, Mara.

“Thank you.” At least Bluestreak doesn’t seem to take offense at the uninspired praise. He chuckles again. This really is either a very happy alien or someone who’s trying too hard.

They arrive outside her house much faster than Mara expected. Bluestreak really must have driven fast. And ever the gentleman, he gets out of the car to open her door for her again. “Want me to pick you up tomorrow, save you the bus ride?”

“I’d like that. Half past seven?”

“It’s a deal.” He winks. It’s a good look on him, makes him look almost rogue-ish. “Good night, miss Heath.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Bluestreak.”

He waits by the car until she closes the door behind her. She watches him drive away through the first floor window.

It really is a very nice car.


	2. Chapter 2

It doesn’t take them many days to form a routine. Bluestreak picks her up in the morning, at the same time every day, always happy to see her. They spend the drive chatting, then she sneaks a morning muffin from the mess hall and eats it while he tracks the signal back down. She never sees him eat anything. They then spend most of the day listening, trying to work through the scrambler, only interrupted by coffee and lunch breaks – again, for her. Then after more hours of listening he takes her to dinner in the mess hall, and they talk while she eats. A few more hours working the radio sets, and then he takes her home.

At this point, all visual evidence to the contrary, Mara is fairly sure Bluestreak is an actual alien.

He doesn’t eat. He doesn’t drink much, either. She’s seen him sip at a glass of water occasionally, but there’s no way a human being would manage from day to day on that little water. He also never goes to the bathroom. He doesn’t seem to tire the way she does. He never yawns, which is downright unnatural. Not even when other people do.

Even with all that, she feels safe around him.

Every few days, Bluestreak meets with the other two aliens he arrived with, Blaster and Prowl. It’s clear that none of them are getting anywhere, and it’s frustrating them. Blaster has hope that he can design a de-scrambler, to let them get at the signal proper, but every time he’s tried getting one functional the signal shifts. It’s frustrating, and not just for them. The mood permeates the base, until even Bethany’s more gloom than not.

It’s certainly enough to make Bluestreak stop grinning. His frustration peaks one day, and he jumps back from the desk and snarls.

Mara would be lying if she said she hasn’t been waiting for it. But still, it’s surprising to see him run out of patience like that.

She quirks an eyebrow at him. “Looks like it’s time for a break. Maybe call it an early day today.”

“Yeah.” He drags a hand across his face, runs it through his hair until it stands in every direction. “Yeah, I need to get out of here.”

“Let’s do that, then.” She holds out her hand, offering. And demanding a bit, maybe. “Come on. I’ll take you to the movies. Expose you to some more Earth culture.”

There’s that smile again. It brightens his face, makes his eyes seem even more blue, and Mara automatically smiles back. Even more so when he takes her hand. “Done.”

It’s become habit by now, waiting by the car door for Bluestreak to open it. But this time he grins when he takes his seat. “You want the top down?”

“It can do that?” This car is even fancier than she thought. Quickly, she unwinds her thin scarf and wraps it around her head to cover her hair. “Yes, please! Some fresh air would be nice.”

“Done.”

Even taking the top down seems simpler than it should. And faster. Bluestreak’s back in the car before Mara’s got her scarf tied properly.

He glances at her as the engine roars to live. “What’s with the scarf?”

Ah, yes. Alien. “I’d rather like to arrive without looking like I’ve fought a twister.” He clearly doesn’t understand, and it’s not hard to take pity on him. “My hair. The wind will blow it every which way and I’ll end up not fit for public.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that.” He flashes her another smile, and his voice is somehow smoother than before when he continues. “I like your hair. It’s really pretty.”

Good God, what is with this person. The compliment is simple, almost artless, but it rings of honesty in a way Mara has rarely heard. She’s almost flustered as she replies. “Oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, where to?”

In retrospect, choosing King Kong was probably not the wisest idea. They should have gone to the Regal instead of the Grand, picked something less monstrous. But Regal was closer, Bluestreak was curious, and Mara let herself be persuaded.

Not that the film isn’t exciting. But Bluestreak is clearly underwhelmed. Fascinated, yes, interested, but this is clearly much more basic than he’s used to.

At least he isn’t laughing. That would have been bad.

And when Mara leans back in horror and fear at the giant ape scaling the building, Bluestreak’s arm is suddenly there. Around her. Inappropriately close.

Strangely comforting.

Very distracting.

When the film ends, the touch disappears. Bluestreak stands before Mara does, offering her his arm with the same smile as always. This time, it makes something in her stomach flutter.

“Nice film,” he says, inanely, as they walk out, and Mara can’t stop herself from snickering. Bluestreak grins at her. “No, really, it was. I had fun.”

“Well, I’m glad of that, at least.” She squeezes his arm. “Though I suspect that it’s different from what you’re used to.”

“Well, yeah. It’s got some catching up to do to compare.” He smiles at her again. “But the company’s infinitely better.”

Okay, how does he do that? He’s not even human, and still he’s making her… feel. Something.

“Do you think she cared for him?” he asks, pensively, when they’re back in the car. “Ann, I mean. For Kong.”

Mara gives it some thought. “Hard to say. She spent most of the time screaming in terror.”

“He clearly cared for her, though,” Bluestreak insists. “He wasn’t just a monster.”

“I suppose not.” She looks at him. “Something’s on your mind about this.”

“I guess.” He smiles again, but it’s smaller than usual. “I guess it’s the parallels.”

“Parallels?”

He doesn’t reply straight away, just keeps on smiling. Mara takes it as a sign to let it be. She’s curious, of course, but she can wait.

They’re halfway back to her flat before he speaks again. “Mara, are you tired?”

“Not particularly, why?”

“There’s something I want to show you. But it means we have to go out of town. Find somewhere a bit more quiet.”

This is probably where she should be worried that he’s a villain intent on stealing her virtue. Or her life. But strangely enough, despite him being an alien and her not knowing what he really looks like and everything, she trusts him.

“Okay,” she agrees. “If you hold left here, past the park, that’ll take us right out to the forest.”

“Sounds good.”

He’s quiet as they drive by the park. He’s not smiling much, either. It would be enough to make Mara nervous, but there’s not much to smile about right here.

“This is where I’m grateful to be with the intelligence services,” she says softly. “I know of too many good people who’ve ended up in Hooverville through no fault of their own. I’m lucky.”

“Mm. We heard about that. Our planet had the same issues, once, but not for the same cause. That was before the war, of course.” He glances at her, as if to gauge her reaction.

“There’s so much I don’t know about you.” She feels safe enough to pry, now that she’s finally decided what he is. Or more accurately what he isn’t, namely human. “Your people. Your planet.”

“You will get to know. As much as I can safely tell you.” Now he’s smiling again, and Mara feels better instantly.

They drive through the last rows of houses, out over the fields and into the forest. It’s not the densest of woods, but there are rarely people here. It should be private enough for whatever Bluestreak has planned.

Speaking of… “Tell me what you’ve planned?”

He chuckles, but it’s a nervous sound. “I thought I would show you what I look like.”

Mara blinks. “Really? Wow.”

“Yeah. If… If you want, that is. And if you promise not to freak out.” He winces. “And not to tell Prowl, because he will _not_ approve.”

“Alright then. I won’t.” She can’t resist teasing him a little, though. “So, are there tentacles? Is that why you worry I’ll freak out?”

Bluestreak rolls his eyes. “I don’t have tentacles.”

“Slimy, then. Absolutely dripping with it, like a swamp monster.”

“Where did you get all this imagination?” Bluestreak is chuckling now, tense shoulders relaxing again. It’s nice to see. “No, I’m not slimy either.”

“Only one eye? A hundred eyes! Oh no, I know – no eyes at all!” She grins at him. “Transparent? Made of water! Made of green jade! Ooh, are you actually a little green man?”

Bluestreak is laughing so hard his eyes are tearing up. He keeps hold of the steering wheel with one hand while the other finds hers. “Primus, Mara, stop guessing. You’ll never get it.”

“Give me a hint, then.” That hand on hers is a little distracting. “Make a game of it. You give me two facts, and I’ll try to guess one more.”

“Fine.” His fingers tighten around hers, and the smile on his face is warm. “You’re tenacious, aren’t you? Fine. Okay. Fact number one. I’m… vaguely humanoid. Fact number two. I’m big.”

Big and vaguely humanoid.

Oh, no wonder he’s seeing parallels.

“You probably don’t look like Kong,” she realizes, “but I bet you could climb the building in the same way.”

“If the building was solid enough, yeah.” He winks at her. “And if I had incentive.”

And now he’s properly flirting. God help her. “Two more?” she asks, mostly as a way to distract herself from the hand still holding hers.

“Okay, let’s see. I can hide in plain sight.” He purses his lips, clearly thinking. “I guess… I have an affinity with technology.”

She considers. Someone Kong-sized wouldn’t be able to hide in plain sight, not without some form of camouflage. It would need to be very fancy camouflage, though, for him to hide completely. Unless…

“The form you’re in,” she says. “That’s kind of like hiding in plain sight.”

“Sure, yeah,” he agrees. “Not quite what I meant, but yeah.”

“Then what did you mean?”

He doesn’t answer the question. Instead he slows the car, looks around. “I think here’s good enough.”

They’re in a clearing in the middle of the woods. It’s dark, and Mara can’t really see much. “Here?”

“Yes.” He gets out of the car, opens the door for her. Puts his hands on her shoulders. “Mara, are you sure you want to see this?”

“I’m too curious to back up now.” She still feels safe with him too, strangely enough. Not that that’ll stop her from making sure. “You’re… not going to hurt me, right?”

“Definitely not.” He leads her a little way away from the car before turning back to face her. He looks nervous. Yet another reason to trust him with this, really – if he’s nervous of her reaction, he can’t be meaning her harm.

Mara stands as Bluestreak lets go of her. He takes a step back. “Don’t freak out?”

“I won’t,” she promises.

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath, then another, and then he’s –

Gone. Vanished, into thin air. First he was there, then there was a strange blue light, and now there’s no Bluestreak. Just the car, silent and ominous now with no driver.

“Bluestreak?” Mara knows she sounds nervous at this point. But she figures she has the right to be. People don’t just vanish in a blue light, after all. And now she’s stuck alone in the middle of the woods. “Bluestreak!”

“I’m here, Mara.”

The voice comes from behind the car. Maybe he’s reappeared there. Mara takes one step towards the vehicle.

And freezes.

There’s a weird kind of noise coming from the car. It twitches, like it’s about to drive off. And then – and then –

Oh, God.

The car splits, takes itself apart. The noise continues, almost deafening in the silence of the woods, as the car stretches and reforms and reaches up, turning into something way beyond Mara’s understanding.

She doesn’t even realize she’s put her hands over her mouth. Can’t hear her own scream. Is frozen in place, even when the thing in front of her finally quietens and stands, hands out towards her.

“You promised you wouldn’t freak out.”

It’s Bluestreak’s voice. It is. But it’s coming from this… _contraption_ in front of her.

The thing takes a knee, lowering itself to closer to her level. Still impossibly big, of course, and she stares up and up until she meets a pair of glowing blue eyes. Set in a surprisingly familiar face.

“Bluestreak?” she manages, voice little more than a squeak.

“Yeah, it’s me.” The smile is familiar. “Told you I was big.”

“You are – you – you were a _car_.”

He shrugs, and the human gesture is enough to calm her down a tiny bit. “Hiding in plain sight, remember?” Slowly, he holds out a hand. “It’s still me. Just bigger and made of metal. Please don’t freak out.”

“I think I need to sit down,” she mumbles. She never gets that far, though. Just as her legs give way, he catches her. His hand catches her, and holds her steady, and she can sit in his palm like she was a puppet.

It’s warm to the touch.

Somehow, that’s the fact that gets through to her brain. His hand was warm when he held hers in the car, and his hand is warm now.

“Tell me,” she manages, while trying to get her breathing back under control. “Tell me two more facts.”

“Mara, you should try to calm down.” He sounds worried. “I can hear your heartbeat, you know, and it’s way too fast.”

“Tell me,” she insists.

“Okay.” He sits down on the ground and raises his hand slightly until she can look him in the eyes. “I can transform into a car. I’m made of metal.”

“You’re an advanced automaton. A robot,” she accuses, and he winces.

“No. Not the way you define it. I’m a Cybertronian. We’re made of metal, sure, and I guess there are some similarities, but we’re living, thinking people. We have souls, or at least something you’d understand as souls.” He looks thoughtful now, and Mara’s getting curious again. Wasn’t this what she worked in intelligence for? The possibilities of learning about alien civilizations? Granted, she hadn’t thought they even really existed until now, but now that the opportunity is here, she isn’t going to let it go.

“We have religion,” Bluestreak continues. “A complex culture with myths and laws and government systems. Pit, we even have civil war.” He smiles at her, and it’s a profound relief to Mara to see that his smile is the same. “The differences are fewer than you’d imagine, Mara.”

“So it seems,” she whispers. She can still see the lines of the car in his form, just as she can see his normal humanoid form in the lines of his face.

Impulsively, she reaches out towards him. “Can I touch you?”

He grins, and it’s comforting, even with his face almost as big as she is. “Of course you can.”

Carefully, he raises his hand and moves her closer to his face. It’s disorienting, being so close to something so big – she has a weird flashback of being a child and seeing a Moai statue up close for the first time.

Bluestreak’s face is smooth to the touch, the metal warm and almost silky. His eyes are bright blue, and they dim as she strokes him. His nose is much like a human’s, his mouth as well, though clearly made of lots of interlocking little metal pieces. Like fabric, but metal. It’s strange to see.

Strange, and kind of beautiful.

She keeps touching him, stroking, examining the texture of his skin – for lack of a better word, anyway. At one point he chuckles, which means she looks into his mouth, and even that is much less worrisome than it probably should have been.

Turns out, Mara’s not afraid of Bluestreak. Not even in this form.

Eventually, he puts her back down. “I think it’s time I brought you home. It’s getting late.”

This time, she watches intently as he changes from big biped to normal car. It’s a fascinating process, and even knowing what he’s doing she can’t make it add up. The car is so much smaller than Bluestreak’s true shape, for one. It doesn’t really make sense that Bluestreak’s whole body should fit in that tiny (by comparison) shell of a vehicle.

Bluestreak as she knows him appears in a gentle wash of blue light, and he smiles as he holds out a hand to her. Even more when she doesn’t hesitate to take it.

Getting into the car feels weird, knowing that she’s essentially climbing into Bluestreak’s actual body. She refuses to think about it too much right now. If she does, they’ll never get anywhere.

“I had fun tonight,” Bluestreak says tentatively as soon as they’re back on the road. Poor thing, he sounds nervous.

“So did I.” Mara offers him a smile. “I wouldn’t mind going out like this again another time.”

“Going out,” he repeats. She should probably be worried that he’s looking at her instead of the road he’s supposedly following, but for all she knows he has some form of extra sense to let him drive even when he isn’t actually driving. “So if I ask you to go out with me again the day after tomorrow, you’d say yes?”

“Yes,” Mara confirms, and then it hits her what he actually said.

Going out.

They’ve gone out. Together.

Bluestreak blushes. He can probably tell by her surprise that she hadn’t realized the implications of the phrase. “Don’t worry about it,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. Not if you don’t want it to.”

It hits Mara then, suddenly, that she kind of does.

Oh, she is in so much trouble.

“I wouldn’t mind going on another date with you,” she says finally, slowly. “I enjoy spending time with you.”

Bluestreak practically beams at her. “I’d really like that. Really.” His hand is warm on hers again.

She doesn’t really notice what they talk about on the way back to hers. She’s too distracted by her own thoughts and Bluestreak’s hand still holding hers. She does notice when he slows to a stop, getting out of the car again to open the door for her.

For a moment she has to fight back hysterical giggles at the thought that he could probably open the door for her without even getting out of the car.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow?” Bluestreak says hopefully.

“That would be nice.” She hesitates for a moment, then stands on her toes to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for tonight.”

“You’re welcome.” He’s grinning like a loon, eyes locked on her as she walks away.

_The differences are fewer than you’d imagine._

Well, apparently so.

Mara turns back and smiles at him before closing the door. Only then does she allow herself to panic a little bit.

She has some thinking to do.


	3. Chapter 3

For a while, it doesn’t seem like anything has changed. Bluestreak is his normal, happy self, smiling at her like always, just the friendly boy-next-door-type that he’s been since they arrived. Mara begins to wonder if she imagined the ‘date’ part of their conversation. He doesn’t mention it, and neither does she, and nothing changes, for better or for worse.

Mara is about ready to tear her hair out just from not knowing.

That is, until Bluestreak convinces her to take a day off.

“We’ve hit a snag anyway,” he explains. “Listening won’t do much good at this point, we’ve learned pretty much all we can. We won’t be able to move forward until Blaster finishes his scrambler, and he’s still waiting for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker to bring the equipment we need. We might as well take some time off.”

She arches an eyebrow at him. “And do what exactly?”

He winks at her. “Well, I wanted to see those big trees of yours.”

“Big trees?” There aren’t any big trees here, not unless he means… “Oh, the redwoods? But they’re half a day away.”

“So we take two days off.” He shrugs, like what he asks is nothing. “We drive there, go to dinner, get a hotel room, then see the big trees the day after.”

She wonders if he knows what he’s describing. Have they skipped the dating process and gone straight to the romantic getaway?

And does she mind very much if they have?

“I’ll talk to Mr. Witwicky,” she says slowly. “I can’t guarantee anything, though. I usually don’t have more than a day off every week, and maybe extra on holidays.”

“Right.” He frowns for a moment before beaming at her. “I know! I’ll go ask him! I’ll say it’s in the interest of strengthening inter-species relationships or something. Prowl always uses that kind of phrase, I bet it’ll do wonders.”

Before she has the chance to object or even open her mouth, he’s gone.

Mara tries to use the time he’s gone to do some of her other work. She really does. But listening to Soviet and Chinese radio waves suddenly has very little draw for her. She can’t focus on what she’s hearing.

In the end, she goes to an early lunch.

Blaster is the only one there. He’s pulled two tables together and spread papers all over them, and he looks about ready to tear his hair out.

Well, she’s got nothing better to do.

“You look frustrated.” She takes a chair opposite the table from him. “Anything I can do?”

He pushes his half-long hair out of his eyes and sighs. “Can you speed up a spaceship?”

“Afraid not.” She nudges one of the documents. It’s covered in a strange kind of writing, she can’t make head nor tails of it. “I’m a decent sounding board, though.”

“I appreciate it, but it’s okay.” He finally sits down, pushing the papers into a messy pile. “The shuttle will be here in a day or so, we’ll be able to move forward then.”

“Bluestreak hasn’t told me what’s so important about this signal.”

He smiles wryly at her. “Because you don’t need to know, girl. We’ll take care of it.”

“Fair enough.” It’s not the first time she’s heard that. Most of her job is passing information along without ever finding out what it’ll be used for or what it’s even about. “So, how do you like Earth so far?”

“What I seen of it’s fairly good. You’ve got potential.” He walks over to another table, picks up something from the fruit basket there and tosses it to her. “I like the music.”

Mara looks down at the apple in her hands. Well, why not. She picks up a knife and starts to peel it. “Bluestreak wanted to go see the redwood trees,” she comments, cutting the apple into wedges. “He wants us to go tomorrow.”

Slowly, exaggeratedly, Blaster winks at her. “Then go show him the redwood trees, girl. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. It can only be a good thing.”

Well. That’s more than she’d expected.

“We’re not the same species.” And that’s just the main argument. “How can it be a good thing?”

“You’re close enough for a bit of fun.” He picks up the sheaf of paper and stands up. “Close enough for more, too, if that’s what you want.” He looks pensive. “We left an Autobot on Cylex III a few vorn back. He got bonded to a local. They’re a sweet entity, as far as I’ve heard. He’s very happy with them.” A big hand lands on her shoulder. “If Blue’s happy with you, and you’re happy with him… Well, take it from someone who’s lived for a long time and spent most of that time at war.” He smiles and squeezes her shoulder gently. “Life’s too short to not act.”

He walks away, leaving her with more questions than she began with. Just in time for Bluestreak to come bouncing back, grinning from ear to ear, already gushing about their trip.

Seems she has to go home and pack.

Bluestreak shows up the next morning with flowers. It’s very cute. And kind of silly.

“I won’t be home to enjoy these,” she says, but she can’t resist burying her nose in them and inhaling the scent of carnations and cornflowers. “They’ll wither and die.”

“I thought of that.” He presents her with a glass bottle, already full of water. “We put them in here. And if they do die, I’ll get you more.”

She’s charmed, even though she knows she shouldn’t be. She takes his hand when he offers it, even though she knows she should be careful.

He’s an alien, after all. And she’s falling too fast.

As soon as she’s seated in the Deusenberg, glass bottle of flowers secure in her hands, they’re off. Bluestreak’s happy, humming under his breath, squeezing her hand every now and then.

“So,” she says, once they’re out of town. “Why the redwood trees?”

“They’re bigger than me,” he replies happily. “The real me, I mean, not this avatar. I’m excited to see them. And I’m happy to spend time with you.” His thumb rubs circles over the back of her hand. “I did say I wanted to take you on a date. Does this count?”

“This counts as a whole lot of dates,” she replies, because it does. “A romantic getaway, spending the night at a hotel? Every girl’s dream.”

“That’s good. I aim to impress.” He leans back in the seat, one finger barely touching the steering wheel. She’d say the car was driving itself, if she didn’t know very well what he was. “Should we flip our game around? You tell me two facts about you, I’ll guess a third?”

“Yeah, okay.”

Somehow, the drive doesn’t seem long at all.

The hotel is very pretty. Their rooms are on the smaller side, but well maintained and cozy, and Mara’s got a better view here than she does from her own apartment. It’s nice.

Especially when Bluestreak swoops in and offers her his arm again, to take her to dinner.

“You don’t eat,” she replies, because won’t that look weird? For her to eat and him not to?

“I can fake it well enough.” He smiles. “There’s a sweet little restaurant just down the road. Will you do me the honors of coming to dinner with me?”

Like she can say no when he asks like that.

The restaurant really is just a short walk away. It’s a quaint little place, much nicer than Mara could usually afford. It’s a wonder it’s stayed in business, really. And with the way Bluestreak throws money at them, they’ll probably stay in business for another few months. She has no idea where he got the money from, either.

Maybe she can ask later. It doesn’t seem important right now.

Mara looks at the table full of food, the two wine bottles. “You didn’t have to get all this for me. What will it look like when we leave most of it?”

“We won’t.” Bluestreak spears a piece of chicken and holds the fork up to her lips. “Whatever we don’t eat, we’re bringing with us. There’s a park near here with another of those encampments in it.”

Mara opens her mouth. The chicken is savory, baked with some kind of spice, very delicious, and Bluestreak is smiling that completely adorable smile of his and being a better man than she knows how to handle.

“Why?” she says, once she’s swallowed.

He frowns minutely. “Why what?”

“Why are you so good?” It’s not quite what she means to say, but judging by his expression it probably does the job well enough.

He picks up another morsel for her, a piece of meat pie this time. “I haven’t told you much about me,” he says finally. “I come from a place called Praxus. Early in the war, it was attacked. I was just a kid, I don’t remember much about it.” He looks around, something wistful in his eyes. “But I do remember places like this. Little neighborhood cafés, family-run businesses. And then, once I was pulled from the rubble and brought to the capital…” He picks up a piece of bread, offers it to her. “There were camps much like those Hoovervilles popping up everywhere. There weren’t enough buildings left standing anywhere for people to shelter in. The army took in who they could, me included, but they couldn’t and wouldn’t take everyone. So civilians were left scraping by as well as they could, living on donated fuel and other people’s kindness.” He shrugs. “I was too young to help my people, then. But I can help your people now. So I will.”

Oh God, he’s perfect.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She reaches out, takes his hand. “Really.”

“Thanks.” He turns his hand slightly, intertwine their fingers. “Is the food good?”

“Everything is delicious.” She opens her mouth for another piece of chicken. “Thank you.”

His fingers tighten on hers.

“So is that why you’re with the Autobots?” Mara asks quietly, letting him feed her again. At this point, she doesn’t really care what she eats. It’s all delicious, anyway, and she can’t look away from his eyes.

“Mm. Prowl was actually the one to find me in the rubble. He pulled me out, got me medical attention, got me enlisted once I was old enough. He saved my life. He’s the closest thing I have to a family.”

“I can understand that.” She picks up her glass, sips the wine. It’s heavier than she’d prefer, but still nice. “I don’t have family left either. Bethany, bless her, does the job as an older sister occasionally. But mostly I manage on my own.”

“I’m sorry.” He squeezes her hand again. “How did you lose them?”

She shrugs. “They got older. Nothing dramatic. They weren’t young anymore when they had me. I was a very wanted, long-awaited child. But I didn’t get to keep them long into adulthood, and I never got any siblings.”

“At least they had you.” He tugs at her hand, raises it to his lips. “I’m grateful for that.”

Oh. Oh, dear.

“I talked to Blaster yesterday,” she says softly. “He said he’d seen the way we look at each other. He said life’s too short.” She looks up at him. “Bluestreak, what do you want from this?”

“Whatever I can get,” he replies, tone just as gentle as hers. “Blaster isn’t wrong. I’ve seen too much death and misery already.”

“But we’re not the same,” she whispers.

He looks down at the food for a moment. “Does that bother you?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

He bites his lip. “Maybe this is a talk for elsewhere. Are you done eating?”

She nods. She’s too nervous now to eat another bite.

Bluestreak has the waiting staff pack up the food so they can bring it with them. He offers her his arm again as they walk, talks about random things – probably to distract her, she thinks, and it’s working. But once they’ve handed the food over to a very grateful woman in the park, Mara leads him out towards the forest’s edge.

“It doesn’t bother me, as such,” she says finally, like they haven’t talked about anything else in the meantime. “But… I’m not sure what you get out of this. I mean, you can camouflage as a human. To me, you seem to be like any other man. But I can’t be like you. I can’t become a giant robot.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to.” Bluestreak stops, turns her a little so they’re face to face. “Mara, listen. I’ve seen so many civilizations at this point. And I’m used to diversity. We’re not all the same, even as Cybertronians, did you know that? Blaster turns into a radio tower, not a car. I have another friend who’s a microscope.” His hand comes up to her cheek, cradling her jaw. “I find you attractive. I think you’re pretty, you’re smart, you’re fun to be around. I like you a lot.” His thumb rubs over her cheek bone. “And I kind of want to find out what can become of this.”

Oh, she is in so much trouble.

She can’t stop herself from leaning into his touch, from taking a step closer. “I would, too,” she admits in a rush, swallowing back the words she definitely doesn’t know if she means yet. “I mean. For as long as it lasts. Considering you’ll be leaving eventually.”

“We’ll see.” There’s a brief pressure on the middle of her forehead. “Come on, brightspark. Let’s go back to the hotel. I’ll be waking you up early for those trees tomorrow.”

“Alright then.” She takes Bluestreak’s hand this time, instead of her arm, smiling at what she belatedly realizes was a kiss and not just a touch. “There had better be coffee.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” He smiles and plants another kiss on the back of her hand, and Mara can’t suppress the shiver.

Maybe he won’t leave yet. Maybe she can have this for a while.

Looking up at Bluestreak’s eyes, it’s easy to believe that she can.


	4. Chapter 4

“Mara! Hey, Mara, wake up!”

Mara sits bolt upright and _screeches_ in shock, covers pulled all the way up to her chin. “ _Excuse_ me, sir! This is my room!”

Bluestreak staggers back, staring at her with wide eyes. “Um – morning?”

“Bluestreak.” She sighs. Of course it’s Bluestreak. “Do you know why there’s a door there? It’s so people have to knock before walking right into a woman’s bedroom.”

“Oh.” He looks sheepish, runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry.” And then he disappears. Honest to God disappears.

A moment later there’s a knock at the door.

Mara giggles as she climbs out of bed, throwing on a complimentary bath robe. It’s so very Bluestreak, to somehow be this hopeless and this cute at once.

She’s still smiling as she opens the door. “Good morning, Bluestreak.”

“Hey.” There’s a smattering of pink over his cheeks, and he looks bashful. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. You startled me, but there’s no harm done.” Quickly, she glances up and down the hall, but there’s no one there. So she does the indecent thing and pulls him inside.

He chuckles as he closes the door behind him. “So I’m allowed inside as long as I knock first?”

She steps close enough to kiss his cheek. “You can come in when you’re invited in. Not before.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll remember.” He beams at her, then sits down. On the chair, thankfully, not the bed. “So are you ready for giant trees?”

“I’ll need clothes, breakfast and coffee, and not necessarily in that order,” she replies, turning away to dig through her suitcase. “Then I’m good.”

She straightens back up to see Bluestreak blushing, looking everywhere but at her. “That, yeah, that sounds good. Um.” He stands back up suddenly. “Coffee! I promised you coffee. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t even leave by the door. Just vanishes in that glow of blue sparks, like before. That will take some getting used to.

She dresses quickly, drags a brush through her hair without bothering with preserving the curls. They’ll be hiking all day anyway. Good thing she’s in shape, because she won’t be able to keep up with a teleporting Bluestreak otherwise. Unless he waits for her. It would be very Bluestreak to wait for her.

She pulls on sensible clothes for hiking, ties her sensible shoes. Paces back and forth a bit until there’s a knock on the door.

Opening it reveals Bluestreak with a basket of food and two thermoses in his hands. His cheeks are still pink, but his smile is bright and dazzling.

“You ready?”

Mara takes the arm he offers her. “As I’ll ever be. Come on, let’s look at some trees.”

Seeing Bluestreak with giant redwood trees is an experience. He’s running around like a child, grinning up at these living things so much bigger than him, and Mara was right that she can’t keep up with him. So she settles at the root of one of the biggest trees, big enough that the tree root she sits on feels like an actual chair, and watches as he flits from tree to tree like an especially excited bee.

Even Bluestreak’s energy finally runs out, though. He drops to the ground next to her with a happy sigh. “These are completely awesome.”

“I’m glad you like them.” She leans back against the solid trunk, big enough to be a wall of wood at her back. “I do too. It’s comforting, I guess, to think of these trees having been here since before we settled this country and still being alive long after I’m gone.”

He leans over, sliding sideways until his head is in her lap. “I’m not willing to think that far ahead. The moment’s too good.”

She can’t disagree with that. And it would be silly not to take advantage of it, really.

His hair is soft under her fingers. It feels like normal hair, but there’s something alien about the way he purrs at her touch. The way his eyelids tremble and shut, though, that’s pure human.

“That feels amazing,” he mumbles, growing heavy on her lap. “I could stay right here forever.”

She doesn’t reply to that. She doesn’t have the right words. So she lets her hands speak for her, combing through the brown strands, scratching gently over his scalp.

Looking at him.

Bluestreak isn’t handsome, not as such. But he’s attractive. He’s cute. He’s got long eyelashes and pretty blue eyes and this amazing smile, and even when he’s not smiling he kind of is. His skin is soft, softer than she’d imagined, and there’s no sign of stubble anywhere. Maybe he didn’t want any, so he made sure he doesn’t have it in this form.

The thought makes her giggle, and Bluestreak opens his eyes and looks up at her. “What’s funny?”

“Oh, nothing. I just wondered if you’d made this avatar without beard stubble because you didn’t want it.” Her hand strokes his cheek, as if to prove how silky smooth it is.

“Sort of.” He turns her head into her hand. “I didn’t like the look, so I didn’t put it in.”

“I like the way you look.” The hand not on Bluestreak’s face wanders, through his hair and down to his ear, dragging along the earlobe. “A lot, actually.”

Slowly, Bluestreak rolls around to his stomach. His eyes are smoldering as he looks up at her, and for once the smile is more of a hint than a full-blown grin. “Really? You do?”

“Yes.” Her hands stay on him as he crawls up, closer, until they’re face to face and practically sharing breath. “I think you’re amazing, actually.”

“That’s my line,” he replies, voice soft and somehow deep, and something inside her tightens. “You’re perfect, Mara.”

“Even though I’m not like you?” She has to ask, even though she could kick herself – she can feel her pulse speed up and her fingers begin to tremble, and if he walks away now it will physically hurt her.

“Who says that matters?” he murmurs, turning his head enough to press a kiss to her wrist. And then kissing his way up her lower arm. Christ. “Not that long ago, humans didn’t even think they themselves were like each other. Some of you still don’t. As long as I’m human enough for you,” he pushes her sleeve up and nips carefully at the skin on the inside of her elbow, “that’s all that matters.”

Mara’s heating up under those touches. When Bluestreak sits up enough to move his kisses from her arm to her neck, all she does is tilt her head aside so he can have better access. “Please,” she whispers, not knowing what she’s asking for.

“Anything you want, Mara,” he replies, lips tracing her jaw. “Anything at all.”

Later, she’s on her back between the tree roots, staring up at the foliage so high above. She feels… less different than she thought she would. And more sure.

“You’d better be planning on sticking around,” she says. “I’m not letting you go now.”

Bluestreak snorts. His head is on her stomach, her bare stomach, and she can feel every exhale of his breath. They’re really lucky no one has come by yet. This is a very compromising position. “I’m not leaving. They’ll have to pull me away. Besides, with the way that signal’s behaving, it might be weeks before we make any progress.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to track down,” she replies. “But I hope it does.”

It probably isn’t the nicest thing to wish someone, that something they’re attempting will be unsuccessful. But she can’t help this feeling that as soon as they crack that signal, Bluestreak will be torn away from her. Her hands tighten on his shoulder, as if to keep him there.

“Prowl doesn’t want it spread,” Bluestreak murmurs. “So don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Don’t tell anyone what?” She doesn’t look at him, but she can feel his every breath, every tiny little motion of his body, which feels somehow more intimate than simply looking.

“I told you we’re at war. Our enemies call themselves the Decepticons. They were rebels at first, but then everything went to slag and it turned into a full-scale civil war. Then an interstellar conflict.” He sighs, hands holding onto her like he’s afraid she’ll fade away. “There’s been a lot of death. And Optimus – Optimus Prime, he’s our leader, he’s amazing – he’s trying to find an edge over the Decepticons, to slow them down, to push them back somehow. That’s why we’re here.” He plants a kiss on her stomach. “The signal we’re tracking is similar to one we heard some time back and tracked to another planet. The ‘Cons were building a communications booster platform there, one that would have let them coordinate their attacks over much greater distances. We would have been at a serious disadvantage if they’d managed to complete it. Thankfully Jazz and his team blew that one up, but we think they’re trying again here. So we’re trying to track them down, put a stop to it.”

“A massive communications platform, huh? Yeah, I can see how that could cause problems.” She can’t imagine the problems it would cause if her country’s own foes had gained such an advantage.

“Yeah.” He sighs, shoulders shifting under her touch. “It feels like we’re always one step behind, though. Reacting rather than acting. I wish we could gain a lead on them for once.”

“Well, hopefully you will. Blaster will make a scrambler that works, and you’ll stop them.”

“Hopefully. If we can dismantle this platform and steal their plans, we can figure out how to counter it.” He groans and sits up. “Speaking of, Blaster’s comming me. So much for weeks. They need us back right now.” He smiles at her, and it somehow manages to be both apologetic and wry. “You ready?”

“Not at all.” She sits up too, tugging her shirt back on. “Let’s go.”

The drive back is peaceful, for all that Bluestreak seems anxious to get back. His hand is in hers as he drives, thumb restlessly stroking her skin. Mara guesses he’s nervous. She can understand that. She is, too.

He takes her straight back to base, which isn’t ideal, but she can work with it. She runs a quick brush through her hair and ties it back, straightens her clothes. It’s not her uniform, but it will do for now. She’s not supposed to be on duty, after all.

She walks in on Bluestreak’s arm. It’s a little nerve-wracking – she feels like she’s letting everyone know what she’s been up to – but she keeps her head high. It’s not like she’s ashamed of him, or of being with him. She’ll do it all over in a heartbeat, even though she can feel her cheeks coloring at their activities in the woods.

This Autobot is corrupting her. She kind of likes it.

Prowl raises his eyebrows at her as they walk in to the largest meeting room, but Bluestreak ignores it, so Mara does too. Blaster is harder to ignore, snickering as he is.

“Oh, shut up,” Bluestreak grumbles goodheartedly, pushing him a little as they walk by. “You’re not one to talk.”

“I’m just happy for ya, lil’ Blue.”

Lil’ Blue. Cute.

“Yes, well.” Prowl closes the door. “If you’d settle down, please. Miss Heath, I don’t expect I have to tell you that what we discuss here is to be kept in absolute secrecy.”

“Yes, sir.” She salutes. “I know to keep my mouth shut.”

“Good.” He doesn’t sit down, but that’s not surprising. Mara hasn’t seen much of Prowl, but she suspects he isn’t one to go off-duty lightly. He’s standing at ease, hands behind his back, classic military posture. “Prime has authorized reinforcements for us, meaning that in addition to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, we have Brawn, Tracks and Mirage. They’ll be here shortly, as soon as they’ve finished their avatars.”

No sooner has Prowl finished his sentence than the door opens again, and five strangers walk in. Strangers to Mara, that is – Bluestreak, Prowl and Blaster clearly knows them all on sight, and there are plenty of greetings, hugs and slaps on shoulders before everyone settles. Mara is the recipient of more than a few curious looks, but she ignores them. Who she is and why she’s there is not important right now.

“Alright,” Prowl says, which seems to be a sign for everyone to settle down. He turns on a gadget on the table, and a model of the Earth is projected into the air. Mara stares. This technology is wildly beyond what anyone on Earth is capable of, as far as she knows. It’s magnificent. “Blaster?” Prowl continues, nodding at him. “If you please.”

“I managed to descramble the signal,” Blaster says. He leans in and touches the projection, and it swirls and moves and changes under his fingers. “The ‘Cons are here. The signal’s very similar to the last one, which should mean a similar rig. We need to get close enough to scout it properly and figure out what we’re dealing with before we can take it down. And also to figure out how many ‘Cons are down there.”

“According to Jazz’s intel, the last base had seven Decepticons. Only four of them were soldiers.” Prowl turns the projection a bit. “We’re expecting a similar set-up here, though of course we can’t be sure yet. We’ll be heading out here in the morning. Mirage, Tracks, you two are on point. Infiltrate the base, see what we’re up against. Sideswipe, Brawn, you will be getting us into the cave via this back passage here. Sunstreaker, Blaster and myself will bring up the rear. Our priorities are to take the ‘Cons out and get Blaster to that machine, so he can copy the plans and destroy it.” Sharp blue eyes look at Bluestreak. “You’re our backup. Stay above ground, be ready to take them down if they blast off.” He nods at Mara, which is more than a little surprising. She hadn’t really expected to be acknowledged. “Miss Heath, your support there would be appreciated. Bluestreak won’t be able to listen to their radio chatter, not and be ready to fire at the same time. If you’re amenable, I’d like to talk to Mr. Witwicky about borrowing you for this mission. You won’t be in active danger.”

“Hopefully,” someone murmurs. It takes her a moment to realize it’s one of the men across from her.

“I’m amenable,” she replies, ignoring him. “If I can help, I want to. I’m sure Mr. Witwicky will permit it.”

A chance to have one of his radio operators be part of an inter-species operation led by actual aliens? Mr. Witwicky will probably throw her at them.

“Good.” Prowl deactivates the device on the table and pockets it. “Then we’ll meet at 6AM sharp local time. We won’t be able to fly the shuttle all the way there, so make sure you scan Earth-appropriate alt modes, we don’t want to attract attention. Yes, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, you too. Choose something that blends in.”

The blond man next to Mara snorts. “Blends in? Prowl, we’ll be boring.”

“It’s one mission,” Prowl replies, and it sounds like an argument they’ve had many, many times. “You can stand being boring for one mission.”

“Says you,” the blond retorts, rolling his eyes. “You’re used to it.”

“Oh, mute it,” a dark-haired man says, shaking his head. “There’s nothing wrong with black and white, Sideswipe. Not everyone likes being garish, you know.” He leans forward, holds out a hand for Mara to shake. “Hello, miss Heath. I’m Mirage.”

“Mara,” she replies, taking his hand. Going by a last name seems a bit strange around these people. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you as well.” He nods at the others around the table. “Let me make introductions, since Prowl neglected to do so. The scoundrel next to you is Sideswipe, with his brother Sunstreaker on his other side. They’re soldiers, hand-to-hand specialists.” Sideswipe grins proudly at that, but his brother rolls his optics. They’re almost identical, except for the expression on their faces. Interesting.

“I’m Brawn,” the next man says. He’s built as a barn door, suiting the name. Mara’s fairly sure this avatar could pick her up and lift her over his head without breaking a sweat. “I’m demolition.”

“And this is Tracks,” Mirage finishes, indicating the last man at the table. He’s got black hair and an easy smile. “He’s our aerial support.”

Tracks laughs. “Of a sort, I suppose. Hello, Mara. I don’t suppose you could tell me what kind of vehicles are available around here.”

“I’m not well versed in cars, I’m afraid.” She can’t quite stop herself from wondering what they look like if they don’t look like Earth cars yet. Are they alien cars? Is that a thing? “Bluestreak picked himself out something fancy, though. He might be able to help.”

Bluestreak is quickly mobbed, and the questions go way over Mara’s car enthusiasm level, so she excuses herself after a few minutes and go in hunt of a bathroom. She feels a little overwhelmed. And apprehensive.

Tomorrow, Bluestreak and the others are going to attack the Decepticons. That’s much sooner than they both expected.

It’s not that she’s a stranger to fighting. She’s intelligence, she’s accustomed to talk of strikes and wars and eliminations.

She’s not accustomed to falling in love, though.

Granted, it might be a bit soon to be talking about love. But she’s definitely infatuated. And the thought of Bluestreak leaving after their mission tomorrow is actually painful.

She wipes her face with a damp paper towel and examines herself in the mirror. She looks… not too bad. Off duty, of course, less clean and polished than usual, but not bad. More relaxed, maybe.

And there is a hint of a dark bruise low on her neck.

Mara gasps and buttons her jacket all the way up. She doesn’t have her scarf, goodness knows where she left that, but she can’t go out like this. It takes some creative arrangement of her collar and hair, but finally the bruise is concealed.

She snorts, which turns into a giggle. The nerve of Bluestreak, marking her like that. Maybe she should mark him in return.

She leaves the bathroom slightly more composed than she entered it, and finds Bluestreak waiting for her.

“Take you home?” he offers, those blue eyes meeting hers, and Mara is suddenly breathless. She nods. It’s about all she can manage. He offers her his arm, as always, and she takes it, as always, but there’s something more to it tonight.

“Don’t worry,” Bluestreak whispers. “No matter what happens tomorrow, I’m staying here. I’ve gotten permission to remain behind when the others leave. At least for a while.”

At least for a while.

Well, she’ll take what she can get at this point.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *bumps the rating up to Explicit*

Mara isn’t allowed to have men in her apartment. She isn’t allowed to bring men into the building, period. Miss Peterson, the building manager, has the apartment on the ground floor and Mara would be willing to swear under oath that the old biddy spends most of her time with her ears glued to her own front door, listening for any rule-breaking of that variety. No one is able to sneak past.

Good thing that Bluestreak is no ordinary man, then, because Mara isn’t ready to say goodnight quite yet.

“Third floor,” she whispers as she kisses his cheek goodnight. “Second window from the right. In ten minutes.”

“Got it.” He winks at her, then gets back in the Deusenberg. “Goodnight, darling.”

Mara doesn’t quite hurry inside – that would bring miss Peterson down on her as surely as bringing guests would – but she walks briskly. Takes a moment to check for mail, then heads up the stairs, nodding at the new girl on the second floor. Fumbles a bit to unlock her own door. He hands are trembling, for some reason.

Okay, she knows why. It’s the same reason her heart’s beating faster than usual and her mouth is dry.

Finally, she gets the door open and heads inside. The apartment is a bit dark, the air a bit stale after being closed in for two days, and Mara opens the window wide for a few minutes to air out a bit. Then dashes around the apartment frantically, putting away the more embarrassing clutter and trying to shine up what she can. She’s not a slob, but she’s not the most tidy of people either, and she doesn’t want Bluestreak snooping in the clean laundry and such. At least she’d done the dishes before they left the day before.

She’d just managed to close the last drawer when Bluestreak’s arms steal around her waist.

“Do we have to be quiet?” he murmurs, and his breath tickles her neck as he nuzzles her.

“Somewhat. The walls aren’t quite that thin.” Goodness, those hands of his are giving her goosebumps. “You can talk normally, but don’t shout.”

“Got it.” His lips close around her skin, nipping lightly down the side of her neck. Mara trembles with it. She’s shivering all over now, eyes closed and mouth open. What this man does to her.

Bluestreak’s hands are on her hips now. She can feel his long fingers curling, his thumbs slipping up under her shirt and stroking over the bare skin of her stomach. The touch is electrifying.

“You are so gorgeous,” Bluestreak breathes. “Primus, Mara. Do you know how you make me feel?” His hands tighten on Mara, pulling her back until they’re flush together. She can feel the heat of him, the soft-hard lines of his body, muscled and lean and smooth.

When his hands slip upwards and start unbuttoning her blouse, she doesn’t object. Her head drops forward, giving him free access to the back of her neck, and her breathing quickens as he mouths his way up to her hairline and back down. Her blouse falls down her shoulders and back, and she shakes her hands to dislodge it completely as her back meets Bluestreak’s naked torso.

“Bluestreak…”

“Mara,” he whispers back. His hands spread wide over her stomach, then slide back down to her hips, opening the line of smaller buttons on her skirt. She can’t believe how deft his fingers are, how easily he deals with her clothing. She’s stepping out of her skirt in no time at all.

Bluestreak turns her around. The tip of his nose traces the bridge of hers, lips close enough that she can feel it when they move. He keeps whispering praises at her, and she finally dares to lift her hands and touch him in return.

He’s so warm under her hands. Warm, and smooth, skin as soft as it looks. She touches his nipples and he gasps, pressing into it.

“Mara, brightspark, bed. Please. Please, Mara.”

He’s pleading now, trembling under her touch. How on Earth did such a magnificent man end up here with her?

How on Earth. Literally.

There’s nothing alien about Bluestreak right now. He’s gasping and shaking, skin flushed, sweat pearling in little beads along his hairline. He’s beautiful.

“Bed,” Mara agrees. She’s got her fingers in Bluestreak’s hair now, still silky soft, and when she backs up, he follows.

Her bed isn’t wide. It was really only ever meant for one person. So she pulls Bluestreak down on top of her, spreads her legs to fit him between. His weight is comforting and warm and magnificent over her, pressing her down into the bed, trapping her underneath him.

She raises her back to let him unclasp her bra and pull it off. Then her hips, so he can slide her panties down. Through half-shut eyes she glimpses his underwear disappearing in a cloud of blue sparks, but then he closes his mouth over her nipple and she doesn’t see any more.

“Can’t believe you haven’t done this with anyone else,” she manages, and if it comes out more as a moan than actual words, who’s to blame her. “Are you sure there isn’t a line of women with broken hearts in your wake?”

“No one but you,” he replies. Mara arches as Bluestreak licks down her stomach. “You’re so responsive. I just want to do more of what makes you react – ngh, Mara, please yes,” her hands have tightened in his hair, pulling at him, “react like that. You’re so gorgeous.” His hands are on her breasts now, his mouth descending lower, lower, and Mara’s close to burning up.

Then his mouth is right on her, his tongue licking up between her legs, and Mara shatters into a million pieces.

She comes back to herself as Bluestreak groans over her. He’s leaning on his arms, hands on either side of her head, and he’s trembling so bad it’s a miracle he can keep himself up. “Mara, please, can I – please, dearspark, I –“

“Yes,” Mara breathes. She angles her hips up to meet his. “God, yes, please, _please_.”

Nothing has ever felt so right as when Bluestreak sinks into her.

She tries to focus on keeping quiet. Bluestreak’s got his mouth open and pressed against her shoulder, clearly doing the same. But it’s hard. It’s so hard because it feels so good, everything Bluestreak does feels amazing, and Mara can’t do anything but hold on and breathe with it and try not to moan so loudly that it’s audible past her room.

Neither of them last very long.

Bluestreak collapses on top of her, hot and sticky against her skin, panting heavily. Mara embraces him, holds him as tight as she can manage. Clings to him, really, which would be embarrassing if he hadn’t been clinging just as hard to her.

Slowly, they cool down. Their breathing eases up.

“Mara,” Bluestreak sighs, almost inaudibly. “Brightspark.”

To Mara’s ears, it sounds like ‘I love you’.

She desperately needs a wash. So does Bluestreak, for that matter, though Mara suspects he can just ‘blue-spark’ his way out of the mess. Must be a useful skill. But for all that she needs to clean up, for all that she can feel the way he’s sticking to her, the fluid seeping out of her, the sweat on her skin, she doesn’t want to move.

In the end, it’s Bluestreak who gets out of bed first. “Do you have a bathroom?”

Mara lifts one hand, just enough to point. “That way.”

It had been a selling point for the apartment, back when she first started working for Mr. Witwicky. Separate bedroom and its own bathroom, even a little kitchen nook. Mara is quite self-contained here. Granted, the bathroom doesn’t have a bathtub or even one of the new fancy showers, but she can make do with the wash stand most of the time. When she does need a good soak, the shared bathrooms in the hall are often free if she comes home late from work.

Bluestreak comes back with the wash basin in his hands. He puts in on the floor and dips a cloth into the steaming water. He’s still completely bare, and Mara knows she’s staring, but she can’t stop.

She remembers thinking that Bluestreak isn’t handsome as such. She was wrong.

Bluestreak is absolutely beautiful.

He begins with her face, and it feels amazing. She’s sure she still had grit on her from their trek in the woods that same morning. Then her neck and shoulders, over her breasts – and here he spoils everything a bit by leaning down and sucking on one of her nipples again.

Mara gasps. It feels too good. “Are you trying to clean me up or get me all dirty again?”

“Can’t it be both?” He grins at her, cocky as you please. “What if I like cleaning you, and I really like making you dirty again?”

“Then I think you’ll be busy for the foreseeable future,” Mara dares to reply.

“Primus, I hope so.” Bluestreak drags the cloth over Mara’s stomach, making her shiver. “I’d like nothing better than that.” He follows the cloth with his lips, placing tiny kisses on her skin. She can feel herself erupt in goosebumps.

Then the cloth is moved down between her legs, followed by a very eager mouth, and Mara can’t do much beyond grabbing hold of Bluestreak’s hair and going along for the ride.

The next time she comes back to herself feels like an echo of the first. She’s still trapped under Bluestreak, still sticky and sweaty, only now she’s hungry on top of it all. And Bluestreak seems to be completely out still.

This close, she can see how long his eyelashes are. He looks younger when he’s sleeping, like many men do, but he also looks prettier somehow. He’s charming when he’s awake, but he’s beautiful when he sleeps.

Mara just wants to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him. Preferably forever.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere, okay?” she whispers. “You’re going to stay with me for a while.”

Bluestreak just sighs in his sleep and snuggles closer.

Much as she’d like to just stay like this all night, cozied up to him, she really is hungry. Lunch seems like it must have been three days ago at least. And it’s not even late yet. Too late to go out and buy something, yes, but not too late to fry up some eggs and bacon.

Escaping the octopus known as Bluestreak is easier said than done, but she manages in the end. He promptly rolls over and hugs her pillow, burrowing into it like he doesn’t intend to come out until spring. It’s unfairly adorable, and Mara could easily have just stood there for a while and stared at him. But her stomach has other plans. And she does need a wash.

The water’s cold now, making her skin erupt in goosebumps. She washes quickly and doesn’t bother to dress properly. An apron thrown on is protection enough from the heat of the stove and the grease.

She only makes enough food for herself. She doesn’t know what Bluestreak eats, but she doubts it’s eggs and bacon. He also seems to be exhausted, and even the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan doesn’t wake him.

She sits by the table, in her usual seat, but instead of looking outside she watches Bluestreak sleeping. She does glance out once, to see if the Deusenberg is outside. Bluestreak has been wiser than that, thankfully, because there’s no trace of it.

So she turns her attention back to the apparition sleeping in her bed.

She doesn’t know if he really needs sleep, for all that he’s dead to the world. Maybe they do something else. Maybe he needs it because he’s taken human form, and humans need to sleep.

Bluestreak sighs, murmurs something in his sleep, and Mara melts.

She’s had her share of infatuations. They haven’t led anywhere, obviously. Some were more fun than others, some lasted long enough for her to consider them being serious, some were reciprocated and some weren’t, but she’s never felt like this before. She’s not sure she can put a name to it, not yet, but she has a feeling she knows which name is hovering on the horizon.

And for an alien, at that.

Maybe after this mission of theirs is done, she’ll get to see him transform again. Maybe they can go somewhere, just them, and not have to worry about anyone seeing. Like a cabin in the woods, maybe. Or in the mountains. Or by the sea. Somewhere distant, where he could be himself and she could be with him in every way possible.

Maybe wishes will be wings and pigs would learn to fly.

Still. He said he wants to stay, after the mission. Maybe he’s telling the truth. Maybe they’ll let him.

Maybe she should wait twenty-four hours, and just see what happened. That also works. It’s not like she can find any answers now.

She finishes the last of her food. Does the dishes real quick, trying to be quiet about it. Takes her apron off, leaving it in a pile on the floor. Grabs the spare blanket from her reading chair.

Bluestreak snuggles back up to her as soon as she crawls into the bed. His legs tangle with hers, arms pulling her close. It feels like home.

Maybe that name on the horizon is closer than she’d anticipated.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where the disaster tags come into play.

Mara doesn’t know much about cars. They’ve never fascinated her. But she’s willing to admit that the aliens have chosen some of the prettiest versions she’s ever seen. And some of the strangest.

She’s the first to disembark the shuttle. Prowl’s avatar follows behind her, looking around as soon as his feet touch the ground. She expects he’s making sure that no one is watching. Not that it’s necessary - the field they’re in is wide and flat and overgrown and completely empty. There’s no danger here. So Prowl nods, and the others follow.

Mara has talked to them enough on the flight here to put names to vehicles. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are flashy, eye-catching, one bright gold and the other red with fancy stripes. She remembers the look from back when people had more to their name than the clothes on their backs. It hasn’t gotten any less eye-catching. Prowl, on the other hand, could be a copy of Bluestreak except from the black and white color scheme – and now she understands Sideswipe’s crack about him choosing boring colors, at least in comparison to them. She really can’t imagine Prowl in that kind of color, though. He’s just too… Prowl.

Mirage is next. His profile is different than the others’, more of a race car frame. He’s all narrow and sleek and shiny, with little room for passengers. Behind him comes Brawn, the only one of them with an alt mode that won’t stick out like a sore thumb in most of the neighborhoods Mara’s familiar with. He’s a tractor trailer truck, for the occasion hauling a long flat bed, and on it, two shapes are strapped down.

One of them she knows to be Blaster. He’s hidden under a tarp, to conceal his decidedly Cybertronian alt mode – there is nothing on Earth that can compare to him, not at this point. Mara had asked why he couldn’t pick an Earth alt mode, and the explanations had involved too many foreign words like ‘subspace’ and ‘mass displacement’ and ‘spark/frame connection’. She gave up on following it fairly fast.

So, Blaster she understands. Tracks, she absolutely does not. He’s strange and blue and with what looks like the edges of wings sticking out of a chassis that’s more bubble than car. It has wheels, and there’s a suggestion of a square undercarriage under all those curves, but he doesn’t make sense.

“That is not stealthy,” she says, staring at him.

Prowl snorts. “Indeed not. But Tracks has a hybrid alt mode. He needs something that can both drive and fly. This was the closest we could manage. Don’t worry, you have inventors already working towards something like this. It’s not too farfetched.”

It looks too farfetched to Mara. But then again, she doesn’t know cars. And this area seems pretty deserted, so hopefully no one sees them.

Not for the first time, she’s glad she’s not in charge of this excursion. At least the headache won’t be hers if someone actually does see them and begins asking questions.

Bluestreak is the last to disembark, and he slows to a stop in front of her, opening his door. “Ready?”

“Ready.” As much as anyone can be ready to go throw themselves in the middle of an alien civil war conflict. At least she has a fairly small part to play. And she does trust Bluestreak.

Even as far into nowhere as they are, there is a road to follow. Bluestreak does something to his radio, letting her hear the others talking. It’s all easy banter and jokes, and they behave as family more than a military unit. It’s comforting. Mara can almost forget she’s on her way to an active attack at an enemy installation.

As if to remind her, it doesn’t take long before Prowl orders radio silence. And a few miles after that, Bluestreak turns down a side road. Mara watches as the others round a bend in the road and vanish out of sight.

“Where are we going?”

“There’s a hill up ahead,” Bluestreak explains. “We’ll be able to see who comes and goes, and the listening conditions will be better.”

Mara is glad she doesn’t have to actually climb the hill. Bluestreak can manage most of the way in his car form, and then he transforms around her and carries both her and her radio equipment that had been in his backseat to the top. There’s a ring of rocks on the summit, and Bluestreak hunkers down behind one of the larger boulders and begins assembling an enormous sniper rifle. It’s bigger than Mara’s entire body. He settles down on his front, aims it at something too far away for her to see, and goes completely still. Focused.

Mara distracts herself with the radio equipment Bluestreak carried. She knows this radio system inside out, and reassembling it is a piece of cake even out here, and for a few moments she loses herself in the assembly and the listening. It’s almost like a normal day at work, if she ignores the giant alien beside her and the reason they’re out here and the very real danger the others are in. So, not much like a normal day at all, really.

It takes some time to find the chatter Prowl wanted her to listen to, but she knows instantly when she finds it.

_“… amp it up,”_ a dark unknown voice says. _“It’s not strong enough yet.”_

_“We built it to specs,”_ someone else grumbles. _“Not our fault the specs we got are slag.”_

Whoever they are, they don’t sound very happy. It also doesn’t sound like they’re done with whatever they’re building.

Mara makes sure the system is recording, and settles down to listen.

The morning stretches on. Mara notes a few pertinent things she hears – mostly names, time frames, things like that. She catches the word ‘Vortex’ twice, it seems to be a name. There’s talk of ‘three planetary rotations’.

Maybe they got here just in the nick of time.

“They should be there any moment now,” Bluestreak murmurs. He hasn’t moved an inch in the hours since he took aim.

A few minutes later, he’s proven right. Shots are fired, loud in Mara’s ears, and someone’s shouting curses. It sounds like Sideswipe. Someone else is laughing, which is downright unnerving.

Being on the outskirts of a situation like this is almost harder than being in one. At least Mara suspects that to be the case, since she’s never actually been in a firefight. She’s certainly not appreciating being on the edge of one, like this – feeling like she’s participating, but not really. Bluestreak is still cool, still holding position, but also clearly listening. Mara half suspects he’d have preferred to be in the midst of things as well, but he’s doing his job without complaint. Even when someone down there screams in pain, the sound tinny through the system’s speakers.

_“Blaster, now!”_

_“- gonna take ya apart, ya filthy –“_

_“ – suck on this, slagger!”_

_“Mirage, look out!”_

There’s a crash, more screams, a low boom. Then silence.

In the distance, a cloud of smoke rises to the sky.

Bluestreak fires.

Quickly, Mara turns the radio system to the internal channel Blaster had indicated they’d use.

_“-getting away!”_ Prowl called. _“Tracks, Sideswipe, get Vortex! Blaster, Mirage, shut the machine down!”_

_“I can’t!”_ Blaster sounds desperate, and Mara’s blood runs cold. _“It’s not a radio system, Prowl! It’s not a system booster!”_

_“Then what is it?”_ Sunstreaker’s voice is terse. _“And can I stop it by slicing it to pieces?”_

_“It’s – I’m not sure.”_ Mirage is coldly focused. _“It looks like some form of pulse wave emitter. I don’t know what it’s designed to do, or how it’s triggered.”_

_“Can you shut it down?”_ Prowl says sharply. _“We need to shut it down before it explodes!”_

This isn’t good.

Bluestreak fires again. And again.

_“I can’t shut it down,”_ Mirage says. He seems to be one of those people who is almost disturbingly calm in a crisis. _“It’s going to blow. We need to get out of the blast radius, Prowl.”_

_“The ‘Cons are gone,”_ Sideswipe breaks in, the words followed by an impressive amount of what has to be swearing. _“Get out of there, all of you!”_

_“We can’t stop the explosion,”_ Blaster says. _“We need to go, Prowl.”_

Prowl hesitates. Mara can hear it.

_“Alright,”_ he says finally. _“Retreat. As fast as you can. Bluestreak?”_

“Prowl,” Bluestreak replies. “They’re out of range.”

_“Got it. Take Mara and go. We’ll meet you there. Prowl out.”_

Bluestreak sits up, disassembles his rifle with quick, sure hands. “Pack it down, sweetspark. We’re leaving.”

“I can’t tell if we won or not,” Mara comments, mainly to distract herself.

“We’re alive. The rest of the Autobots are alive. That’ll have to be good enough for now. I’m just grateful the ‘Cons set this up well away from civilization.” He stows the equipment she’s dismantled and scoops her up. “Come on. We need to get out of blast range.”

They’re not fast enough.

The world explodes under Bluestreak before they’ve gotten halfway down the hill.

Mara never, ever wants to experience something like this again. The ground is shaking underneath them, the fields and hills and even the road rolling and trembling and sometimes disappearing altogether, falling into massive holes or ravines, a few times straight in front of them. Bluestreak drives faster than Mara has ever seen anyone drive, faster than should even be possible, all his concentration thrown into keeping them moving forward. His radio’s still on, and every now and then they catch snippets of the others’ conversation. Whenever they do, Bluestreak puts on a burst of speed.

Finally, they’re back at the field where the shuttle had been. It’s not there anymore. Neither is the field, really. It’s all holes and ditches and dust clouds.

“What now?” Mara whispers. She’d be terrified, if she hadn’t been with Bluestreak.

“Now we drive there.” Bluestreak sounds determined and sure. “Don’t worry, sweetspark. I’m going to keep you safe.”

She doesn’t doubt that. Even with the world literally falling apart around her. There’s probably something to examine more closely there, but it can wait until they’re not in an actual life-or-death situation.

Bluestreak’s tires squeal as he sets back off, driving away from the plume of smoke still growing behind them. Distance doesn’t seem to help, and Mara is slightly worried at how violently the ground is still shaking. She’s not a geologist, but it seems unlikely that an explosion could cause that kind of effect this far away.

Worse, the radio’s gone eerily quiet.

“Where is ‘there’ exactly?” She’s not really that curious, but the small copse of trees in the field next to them all just disappeared into the ground and Mara desperately needs a distraction. She’s scared to look behind them, scared that the road is falling into the rapidly collapsing surface, scared to see it catching up. Bluestreak talking, at least a little, is infinitely preferable.

“There’s a spot we agreed to meet up if we got separated,” Bluestreak replies, though he sounds distracted too. No wonder, with the way he has to drive. Mara’s absurdly glad he’s an alien now, because a human driver could never be this steady. “It should be safe. Even from whatever the slag this is.”

“What could do this?” Not that she wants to know. It’s already so much worse than she could have imagined.

“I don’t know. Even if it was a pulse emitter, it shouldn’t have done this.” Bluestreak throws himself into a turn to avoid a pile of dust and debris that might have been a barn at some point. “At worst, it would have knocked out your communications, maybe your power supply. Not this. I don’t have the scans for it, not like Brawn does, but… It feels deep.”

Mara can’t tell. She’s got more than enough with just holding on and not getting thrown every which way.

There’s a larger road ahead, leading back to civilization. Mara can see a city skyline ahead.

There’s something wrong with it.

There’s too much dust. And smoke.

“Frag,” Bluestreak says. It sounds like a curse word. “We can’t go that way. It’s clogged up ahead.”

Mara doesn’t ask how he knows. She can see it well enough for herself, the way the road bucks underneath them, the fire raging in the distance.

Bluestreak turns at the next crossing, heading out towards the sea.

They drive for what seems like hours. The ground stops shaking beneath them, but Mara isn’t reassured. Not when the stars are blocked out by smoke, and the wind has grains of sand and dirt in it that makes breathing difficult, even inside Bluestreak’s alt mode.

Finally, Bluestreak stops. In front of them is something that could generously be called a house, though ‘shack’ is probably more accurate. But it’s at least a roof over their heads.

“Let’s get you inside,” Bluestreak says, avatar materializing and picking up the radio equipment lying willy-nilly in the backseat. “We need to find out what’s happening.”

It turns out, too much is happening.

Mara is in shock as she tracks down various signals, both military and civilian. Most times they only get fragments - too much static in the air to allow otherwise – but it’s enough to figure out what’s going on.

Whatever the Decepticons were up to, it’s destroyed everything.

There’s fire in every town, every city. Bridges collapsing all the way down the coast. The roads are gridlocked, the hospitals overrun. The earthquakes seem to have passed, but now they’re watching for volcanic eruptions in several areas. Some mountains have already blown, shooting ash and lava and destruction, adding to the clouds of debris taking over the skies.

Mara has to stop listening when her hands shake so badly that she can’t push the right buttons anymore.

Bluestreak is there when she pulls back, pulling her close as she collapses. It’s too much to think about, too much to take in. She just wants to close her eyes and hope everything goes away. She’s never believed in magic, never thought there was something that could just fix everything, but what she wouldn’t give for that kind of faith at this point.

“What now,” she mumbles, clinging to him and pressing her face against his neck.

“Now we get some food into you, and some rest.” He’s still determined, in control, and she can hear Prowl’s influence in it. “And then I’ll try contacting the Autobots again. They should have been here before us, if they’d taken the shuttle. I need to comm them.”

The shack doesn’t have much, but there’s an outhouse out back, and a bedroom of sorts. Bluestreak sits Mara down on a chair and brings out pillows and blankets from who knows where, all looking brand new. He hands her a basket full of wrapped foods – there’s sandwiches individually wrapped in napkins, apples, some cheese and sausage, even a bottle of lemonade.

She manages to force down a sandwich. Eventually.

Bluestreak takes one look at her when he’s done putting down the blankets for a bed of sorts, and scoops her straight off the chair. “Bedtime, sweetspark.”

She doesn’t know how to even consider falling asleep. Not with the world potentially ending around her. But Bluestreak crawls in under the blankets with her, pulling her close and keeping her warm. She doesn’t stand a chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tracks' alt mode is similar to the Waterman Arrowbile, but not quite. They started tinkering with the idea of flying cars in the 30s, though the results somehow ended up being neither cars nor actually flying. Tracks, as we know, is a master of both ;)


	7. Chapter 7

They travel for days.

There’s dust everywhere. Desperate people walking away from cities that have become deathtraps overnight. Bluestreak takes them around major population centers, dodging the farms and towns where destruction has left everything in shambles. They stop a few times to resupply, mainly for Mara, until Bluestreak’s trunk has enough foodstuffs in it to last her a month if she’s careful. Which she will have to be, because food is getting hard to find. Mara would have never managed had she been on her own, but Bluestreak seems to have a sense for where to find it. And the added advantage of being able to materialize directly inside rooms, meaning that warehouses and storage buildings with locked doors aren’t really much of a problem.

Every night, they stop somewhere high and reassemble the radio set. Bluestreak will stand behind her, sending his own signals to the heavens, while Mara listens for any news she can find.

There is less of it now. She doesn’t want to consider what that means.

The air is still hard to breathe. Bluestreak still can’t get in touch with Prowl or the rest of them.

When Mara begins coughing, waking every night to the feeling of hacking her lungs out through her mouth, Bluestreak finally calls it quits.

“This isn’t good for you.” He’s frowning, but it’s a worried expression, not an annoyed one. “I can’t keep risking you like this, Mara. I won’t. I’ll take you away from here.”

“Take me where?” Mara tries to say, though it comes out more cough than question. “It’s bad everywhere.”

He shakes his head. “Not everywhere. We just need to get far enough away, get high enough. And still be close enough to civilization to get food for you.”

He packs her up the very same day. Wraps her up in their by now endless supply of blankets, fills up their various flasks and bottles with water. Then they leave.

Mara’s given up on knowing where they are. She’ll spend long days looking out Bluestreak’s window, but it’s all grey and brown. All dust and volcanic ash. She longs for rain, enough rain to wash the ash away, but at the same time she dreads it. Rain would make the roads even more slippery, would cause mud slides and floods with the way everything’s clogged up. A bit of moisture in the air would be nice, though. Some clouds. Something.

Bluestreak doesn’t stop at night anymore, just keeps going, and Mara’s grateful for it. She sleeps in the passenger seat, tucked up against the window, trusting him to keep her safe. Sometimes Bluestreak’s avatar materializes and they curl up together, Bluestreak somehow making them both fit in one seat. Other times it’s just her in her blankets, wrapped up against the cold and the dust, Bluestreak’s engine a reassuring purr in her ears.

Finally, they find somewhere where the air is clearer. It’s high up, much higher than Mara’s used to, and the house he finds is clearly abandoned and needs a lot of work. But for the first time in days, Mara can breathe properly.

“Is this okay?” Bluestreak asks that night, when he’s made a bed of sorts for them on the floor and has her wrapped up to his satisfaction. “If we stay here?”

“It’s a good spot,” Mara agrees, only coughing a little this time. “We can make it work.”

And they do.

What was meant to be temporary shelter soon turns into a home, as neither Mara nor Bluestreak want to leave again. Mara feels safe here, and Bluestreak… Well, it turns out Bluestreak is willing to do quite a lot for Mara. Including renovating a house.

He begins by tackling the walls and roof. Mara’s mostly on the ground, watching – her cough’s gone away again, now that she’s not breathing all that dust, but the damage is done. She gets winded fast, doesn’t quite get the air she needs, can’t really do anything strenuous. But she’s good at encouraging.

And watching Bluestreak is never a chore.

Mara loves just being there when he works. Seeing the sweat bead through his shirt – if he wears one – and the way his muscles tense and flex with every motion. Sometimes he’ll see her there and smile at her, and Mara will smile back, and sometimes he’ll leer at her and then they don’t get anything else done that day. Every few days he leaves, going into the nearest town and coming back with supplies and provisions – water, food, clothes, linens, building materials, whatever they need. He changes his alt mode to a truck, to be able to carry more and bigger supplies. It comes in handy when he installs the big windows in the front of the house, taking advantage of what turns out to be a magnificent view.

The dust settles. The ash disappears. The world heals.

Time passes.

Most days are good, but sometimes it’s harder. Rebuilding takes time, healing takes time, and in between the days of happiness there are days of sadness and frustration and fuses that grow shorter by the glance. Bluestreak will go for drives, staying away all day. Mara will go for walks, as far as she can get without getting all winded anyway. It’s not far, but Bluestreak doesn’t follow, so it’s far enough.

There are bad days. But the reconciliation is always sweet.

“I don’t know what I would have done without you,” Bluestreak confesses. “You know I would have stayed anyway, right? Even if we’d finished the mission and they’d left?”

Mara isn’t too sure about that. But there’s no way to ever find out, so she makes herself stop worrying about it. She has Bluestreak, for now. Besides, it kills her to see him on the days he wakes up from nightmares of being left behind, of being left for dead, of being the only one.

He doesn’t say that he’s afraid they’re all dead. Mara can read him pretty well at this point though, so she knows what he’s afraid of. Which is why she supports him when he keeps trying to signal the Autobots, even though there’s never a response. It’s why she helps him dismantle the radio equipment they brought with them, setting it up so he can use it to give his own comms a boost. It’s why she suggests they put up a permanent signal booster on the roof of the house.

Bluestreak says he thinks they might have left the planet, might have taken the shuttle and left when they realized that the planet was erupting underneath them. Or they might have followed to chase the Decepticons off, to make sure they wouldn’t come back to finish what they started. “If they’ve escaped,” he’ll say, aiming for confidence and instead just making her want to hold him close and comfort him, “they’ll come back for me. They’ll know I’m alive.” And Mara reassures him that they will, that they do, that they’ll manage together until then.

Sometimes Mara is the sad one. She’ll catch herself thinking about her old life, the life she had before the world erupted in ash and dirt. About Mr. Witwicky, Bethany and the other girls. They probably think she’s dead by now, since they haven’t heard from her. She hopes they’re still alive. She hopes Bethany found the man she always wanted to find, the one who would treasure her and call her ‘dearest’ and ‘loveling’ and ‘beautiful’. She hopes they’ve settled down in a nice house, with a white picket fence and bright flowers in the windows, maybe two kids and a dog running around outside.

On those days, Bluestreak will pull her close and hold her until she stops shaking and the tears dry up. He asks sometimes if he should take her back, if she’d be happier there. Every time, she says no. She might miss some things, she might be melancholic at times, but she won’t give up Bluestreak for anything.

When she tells him that, every time she tells him that, his smile brightens until his eyes practically glow with it.

Quite often, her telling him that also means that they don’t get anything done for the rest of the day and end up spending it in bed instead. It’s the best kind of reinforcement, Mara finds, because she never feels quite as loved as she does when they’re naked and Bluestreak looks at her like she’s the most precious thing in the universe and he’s honored to be allowed to touch.

Yes. Loved. In between everything, love happens.

The first time Mara realizes she loves Bluestreak is just a few days after they get to the house. When her breath is still troubling her, and the walls of the house are more holes than not, and Bluestreak has her wrapped up in all the blankets they have while he works on closing the worst gaps with random pieces of wood lying around. He turns once, looks at her, smiles, and Mara knows.

She doesn’t say anything. Not yet.

But when the walls and roof are done, when Bluestreak crawls into the blankets with her in the bed they actually built together, all warm and caring and doing his best impression of an octopus again, Mara tells him. Whispers _I love you, Blue_ like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it is, since Bluestreak immediately replies with _I love you too, Mara_.

It’s good.

Bluestreak still signals the Autobots every night, sometimes climbing up the mountain nearby to see if that can give it a boost. Sometimes it seems to work, and Bluestreak gets his hopes up for several days that his transmission has been received somewhere, by someone. Most times it doesn’t change anything, but he keeps on trying. And Mara keeps encouraging him, even if she doesn’t have much hope left that they’ll come back.

Mara can’t help him much with the house. She can’t paint because of her lungs, and she can’t lift much. But she can clean, and she can hammer a nail, and, it turns out, she can garden. Bluestreak helps getting the plot ready, raking and hoeing and moving stones, and then goes out to get her all the seeds she could have ever asked for. And Mara wrangles the land into submission – mostly by sweet-talking to it – and learns as she goes along.

The first crop is a failure, with carrots nothing but tiny roots and cabbages barely sprouting. The second one as well. But she learns. And when the third crop yields a full total of five carrots, two turnips and a bush full of raspberries, Bluestreak congratulates her with a hen house and four live chickens. Miraculously, she manages to keep them alive.

One day she looks in the mirror and sees faint lines around her eyes, hints of smiles and laughs and more time spent here than she had really realized. The surprise is faint, but there – that they’ve been here long enough for it to show in her face.

“I’m older,” she tells Bluestreak that afternoon, over a dinner that’s at least 45% homegrown.

He smiles at her, the same smile as always, though subtly different. Skin slightly ruddier than it used to be. Tendencies of silver at his temples. The same faint lines around the eyes that Mara found around her own. “I’m not surprised. I am too.”

“Barely.” She shakes her head, but she can’t resist smiling back. She never could. “You’re still young, Bluestreak. You’ll be young long after I’m dead and gone.”

They’ve talked it over. That he’ll outlive her to such a degree. She knows it’ll hurt him, the same way it hurts anyone who outlives their partner, but he says it’ll be worth it even so. That love always is. “Is that what this is about?” she continues. “The aging?”

“Maybe. I wanted to age alongside you. So this avatar’s all yours.” He takes her hand, kisses the back of it. “It’s sappy, I know.”

“I kind of like sappy,” she whispers. “Love it, actually.”

“Good. Because I’ve got no intention of stopping.” He winks at her, kisses the inside of her wrist.

They don’t get anything more done that day.

Later, when they’re sticky and sated and cuddled up under their multitude of blankets, when Bluestreak’s got his head on Mara’s chest and his leg thrown over hers and his arms around her, Mara brings it up again.

“Promise me something,” she murmurs.

“Anything,” Bluestreak replies, voice half muffled by skin and blanket.

“Promise me that when I’m gone, you’ll keep looking for them. Or you’ll find someone else. Okay? Don’t just stay here and think about what you don’t have anymore.”

“I promise.” He kisses her stomach before shuffling up until they’re side by side and he can reach her mouth. “But you’re not planning on leaving me yet, are you?”

“No. You’ll be stuck with me until I’m old and gray and can’t remember my own name, so you’ll have to remind me.” Mara returns the kiss, as gentle and soft as she can. “But after. Okay?”

“Okay.” He kisses her again, eagerly, like he’ll never tire of it. She knows the feeling. “But until then, I have you.”

“Until then,” Mara agrees. “And we’re going to keep on calling for them, Blue. They’ll hear us some day.”

She doesn’t know if she believes her own words. But that won’t stop her from saying them. Maybe, someday, it’ll come true.

Until then, she’s not going anywhere. And neither is he.

“Goodnight, love.”

Bluestreak closes his eyes and smiles, snuggles close with his arms and legs around her. Like an octopus. “Goodnight, sweetspark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read part 2 of this series yet - the original fic this one is a prequel to - this is probably where it fits best :) Next chapter's an epilogue.


	8. Epilogue

Bluestreak pulls until the whole dandelion root is out of the ground, and tosses it onto the pile of plants to be carted away. The field is smaller than it was in Mara’s days, mainly because Bluestreak doesn’t really need to eat anything. He leaves whatever fruit and veg he actually manages to grow at the front of the house, so anyone can pick it up as they drive past. He’s not doing this for the produce.

He’s doing it for her. After all this time, he’s still doing it for her.

His focus has changed a bit, though. Before, he tried to keep everything tidy and in good repair for her, so she could be happy and comfortable even when her body grew too frail for her to do anything herself. Now he’s mainly keeping up with the upkeep – hah, Mara would have liked that one – so she doesn’t come back to haunt him or something.

Not that he would mind seeing her again. Not that he would have minded if she’d somehow suddenly been able to live as long as him.

He stands at the end of the row, stretching. Aging his avatar body was an interesting experience, but he’s more than ready to change it back to something younger. When the paperwork comes through on the house, so he can leave it to a younger version of himself – literally - he will.

At some point.

Soon, probably. Possibly.

He picks some of the prettier dandelions off their roots and ties them together with a few blades of grass. Then walks over to put them carefully on the gravestone. “Here, sweetspark. They’re pretty this year.”

_They’re pretty every year_ , Mara would have replied. _And every year, they’re a pest._

He chuckles. “Yeah, that’s often the case.”

He doesn’t mind the dandelions. Not really. Mara hadn’t, either. But for something else to grow, the tough little flowers have to be removed. After all these years, Bluestreak is used to the work. It’s calm, easy, gives him something to do with his time.

Time he seems to have all too much of, now that he’s here alone.

There’s a creeeeak as the radio transmitter array on the roof is caught in a stray breeze and turns ever so slightly on its base. He should have been up there and oiled that, but it has been a while since it’s been important.

Maybe it’ll be important again. Maybe he should just get it done, since it needs doing. Maybe Mara’s frowning at him from wherever she is, since he promised her he would keep looking.

Bluestreak has found the oil, set up the ladder and is considering the climb up when he hears the cars.

Two of them, at least. Familiar-sounding engines – sports models, probably, like his own after he last changed it. What are they doing way out here?

Just in case it’s a neighbor, Bluestreak grabs a sack of carrots as he walks past the field. Then heads around the house to see who it is.

As soon as he sees them, the carrots crash to the ground, forgotten.

He knows those cars. He knows the lines of black and white, different in this form than he’d last seen them but still achingly familiar. He knows the maroon and blue too, though he never expected to see it again.

He hadn’t realized he’d all but lost hope that they’d come back until the car doors open, and Prowl’s avatar is there in front of him.

“Oh my god,” Bluestreak breathes. “It’s really you.”

“Primus, Blue, you’ve gone full native.” Smokescreen grins at him. His avatar is so inherently Smokescreen that Bluestreak could have picked him out of a crowd from three streets away. “What’s with the sage look?”

“Huh? Oh.” Bluestreak awkwardly touches his hair, gone full silver now. “It’s a long story.”

“You’ll have to tell us all about it on the way back then.” Smokescreen looks up at the house. “So, this where you’ve been hiding?”

Bluestreak ends up showing them around. Of course he does. He’s proud of what he’s built here, the life Mara and he lived together. He’s lived a whole human life here, and even though he’s technically still young by Cybertronian standards, he really has gone full native. Being on Earth has aged him, but in a good way.

Prowl remembers Mara, of course, and he asks a lot of questions. Bluestreak can practically hear her in his head, laughing about how Prowl hasn’t changed one bit. Bizarrely, for Prowl, too little time has passed for him to change much. He probably hasn’t even acknowledged Sideswipe’s glaring interest in him yet.

It’s jarring, to feel so much older and yet not really have aged much.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t come sooner,” Prowl says when Bluestreak has run out of house to show them. “We tried to come back, but the Decepticons still had the planet under barricade. We had to stay out of signal range until they decided the weapon was truly lost and left. We would have been back for you sooner, had we been able to.”

“We caught your signal as soon as we entered atmosphere,” Smokescreen added, glancing up on the roof. “It’s a good get-up you have here.”

“Mara helped build it.” Bluestreak doesn’t hide the pride in his voice. “She was brilliant with radio equipment. I couldn’t have lasted this long here without her.” He sighs, voice going soft. “I miss her every day.”

Prowl looks at him, concern and apology in his eyes. “How have you been, Bluestreak? Really?”

Bluestreak smiles softly. “I’ve been good. I’ve lived well. I know it sounds weird, that it might not make sense, but I have. I’ve had a good life.” He glances over at the gravestone, and the yellow flowers still on top of it. “I had Mara by my side, living out her life with me. I couldn’t ask for more than that.”

“I’m glad you had each other. I often worried about you being here alone.” Prowl frowns. “I really am sorry. We never meant to leave you behind. If that weapon hadn’t exploded…”

Bluestreak waves the words away. “But it did, and it was no one’s fault. Don’t worry about it. It’s water under the bridge.” He chuckles as Smokescreen’s eyebrows rise at the expression. “Seriously. I’ve been happy here, Prowl. Even when I wondered if I would ever be able to leave.”

“Now that we’re here,” Smokescreen says softly, “ _are_ you able to leave?”

Bluestreak is still for a moment. Then he nods. “Give me a few minutes. Also, I haven’t transformed for decades. Not since before I lost her. So I’m probably not going to be able to at this point.” He grins. “Ratchet’s going to have a field day. I haven’t had maintenance or anything of the sort done since we first left base.”

“Ouch. Rather you than me,” Smokescreen says wryly. He pats Prowl’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s give him a chance to say goodbye. We’ll be out front when you’re ready, Blue.”

Smokescreen hasn’t changed, either. He’s still very observant, and he’s still kind.

Bluestreak waits until they’re gone before taking a knee in front of the stone. It’s a familiar motion, something he’s done many times before. There’s even a hollow in the dirt that fits his knee perfectly.

He’s quiet, looking at the stone. Then he pats it gently, resting his hand on top of it. “Goodbye, my love. I’ll see you in the Allspark. I know you’re waiting for me there.” He stands up again, smiling. “I’ll miss you until I see you again. I love you.”

He takes a step back before turning around and walking away. It hurts a bit, leaving Mara’s grave, but not as much as he’d feared it would. He knows this is what she would have wanted for him, to be with his own people again.

Heh. He can practically hear her. _Prowl had better not leave you behind again, or I’ll stripe his hide for you, metal or not._

“Yeah, Mara,” he murmurs. “Yeah, sweetspark, I know you will.”

He walks through the open house, into the garage. Opens the driver side door of the old sports car parked there. There’s a moment of duplicity, and then the old man is gone in a shower of blue sparks, and Bluestreak drives out of his home for the last time.

Prowl and Smokescreen are waiting on the road, as Smokescreen promised.

“Ready?” Prowl seems almost hesitant to ask.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” Bluestreak doesn’t look back. He doesn’t have to. “Let’s go back to base.”

They fall in on either side of him, shielding him or guarding him, he’s not sure. It feels comfortable either way.

They crest the hill, and the road turns, showing Bluestreak his home for the last time. The house is silhouetted against the setting sun. It already looks empty, half-reclaimed by nature, covered by that climbing ivy Mara had loved to hate as she wrestled it off the walls before finally giving up and letting it take over.

_“We’ve taken enough from this planet,”_ she’d say. _“Let’s let her have this one.”_

And now the house will be taken over by nature. The ivy will tear it down eventually, trees will sprout and grow in the patio and driveway and eventually in the house itself. Birds will nest in the high rafters.

Mara would have been happy, had she been able to see it.

Bluestreak watches until they’ve come over the hilltop and he can’t see the house anymore. Then he follows his fellow Autobots to the shuttle barely visible in the distance.

Time for a new chapter.

_“That’s my Blue.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it. A happy ending, of sorts :D  
> Thanks for asking me to write this, honey. I had a lot of fun figuring Mara out :) I hope you love it as much as you thought you would!


End file.
